


Where Did The Party Go? [Peterick]

by Justalostflutterby



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Peterick, Ryden, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Stay Strong, Suicide Attempt, triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalostflutterby/pseuds/Justalostflutterby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick & Pete attend a party and Patrick's mind plays tricks on him and events unfold that either of them were not ready for. If you've read Pete's GREY Book, this can be relatable to it. It gets into a very meaningful story and I hope I replicated it within this well in later chapter. [Peterick]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

I've never wrote a Peterick/Fall Out Boy story before so I thought I'd give it a go and see where it ends up, plus this idea suddenly came to my head...Enjoy :3 -xo

Patrick:

I never really liked parties, not really. They were boring, too loud and there was normally far too many people. But Brendon, of Panic! at the disco said that there wasn't going to be that many people, just a whole bunch of his friends all hanging out together. Right, like that was ever going to be the actual truth. He probably just wanted me to feel better about it so that I'd go and not come up with an excuse.

"Patrick! You ready yet?" Pete called from the bathroom in the hotel suite that we were staying in for this weekend, we had a show tomorrow night near our home town. God knows why Brendon wanted to have a party now.

"Yeah, almost." I replied half-heartedly, really not up to the whole party fiasco tonight.

I tugged down on my sleeves of my black shirt that I decided to wear before sliding on a hat and my shoes, and calling out to Pete that I was ready. He obviously, looked perfect like he normally did, but there was something about him that was different. His red jeans, his white shirt, his black waistcost and lil' black tie, and his hair was straightened to perfection. How that boy never burnt himself in the face I will never know.

"You look gorgeous," Pete commented, trying to make me feel good. I shook my head instantly.

"You know I don't, so shush." I gave him a stern look and picked up a jacket and key to the hotel room before walking out of the hotel with Pete and hopping in a cab to Brendon's hotel, where he had rented out a fancy room where we would be eating and then partying in.

I shuffled closer to Pete in the back of the taxi cab, he was always warm, it was like he was a walking, talking, breathing heater or something but it was nice because the cab was kind of cold and he evened it out without me having to put effort in to put my jacket on.

I leant my head on Pete's shoulder and smiled a little to myself, he was comfortable too and because we were mostly the same height, he was easy enough to cuddle with. He didn't seem to mind either.

* * * * * * 

"Come ooooon, Patrick! Dance with me!" Brendon chimed, oh how ironic, Brendon chimed in, hm? I rolled my eyes and got up from my chair, slightly intoxicated and I had a little trouble but Brendon helped me thankfully. "Yeyeyeyey!" He beamed and started twirling me around in circles, the only person who I thought was looking was Pete who was in the corner sat down on a chair, observing Brendon and I with a knowing smirk.

He knew how I felt, God damn. He knew I didn't like dancing, I rarely even danced on stage, just hopped around as if I was on crack or something. I never used to do it before, before the band went on hiatus...I shook my head to try to get rid of the thoughts of when the band wasn't together. When I never used to talk to Pete, when I would just ignore what everyone was saying that I thought I had to start a solo project just so I didn't feel so alone. 

Brendon lifted me up into his arms and carried me over to Pete, sitting me down on Pete's lap, now this wasn't my place, not at all, it was his girlfriend's. Before I could protest Brendon dropped me down onto Pete's crotch, laughing happily, Pete grunted in slight pain and I smirked. I wasn't that heavy was I? At least I wasn't now, I used to be. I had worked at it because that was the only thing I had left. 

Throughout that time, Pete was depressed and I hadn't even cared. I didn't realize. I felt overwhelmed with this at that one second in his lap and I threw my arms around him, hugging him as tight as I possible could. "Pete, I'm so sorry..." I cried out and he hugged me back gently without a moment of hesitation.

"Hey..." He whispered, "what are you sorry for? You have nothing to apologize for Trick." He frowned and I pulled away and cupped his face gently, leaning my forehead to his, swallowing hard. 

"But I do...I...I abandoned you when you were all alone and I didn't even notice." I explained and he took my hands carefully away from his face, holding them delicately in his own hands, staring at me intently with those big brown eyes.

"No one noticed, it doesn't matter anymore." Pete said quickly, I hadn't really recalled what he had said because I was too busy watching his facial expression as he spoke, the way his lips moved quickly as if the moments were slipping away from him. Where was this coming from? My sudden...Observational skills?

Was it the alcohol? Or was it because Pete was perfect in every way possible and I was the most horrible friend in the world. The band had only recently got back together, Pete was probably still depressed, he probably still felt the same as he always had done. Awful. And I wasn't doing anything to stop it. How is that a good thing? How can he even be friends with me? Maybe it was because he didn't have any other option, because he didn't know where to turn and I was the only one there who even slightly gave a damn about him.

But one thing's for certain, I was there for him before the band went on hiatus, and I was there now.

Pete tilted his head to the side the slightest bit like a dog, confused as to why I hadn't said anything in at least two minutes, I normally always rushed out worked and didn't stop, in interviews I did it all the time and I was so surprised that none of the band had told me to shut the f**** up and leave.

"Patrick..?" Pete asked and yet again, I barely heard him. I was too focused on his eyes, they had dilated, his pupils had grown. W...What? I continued to stare at him as if he was a madman and I leaned my forehead to his again and was about to do something that I had been wanting to do for so damn long but came up short because someone dragged me off his lap and hugged me tightly. I was about to push them away but when I realised it was Ryan I laughed it away and tried to focus on other things other than Pete.

"Sorry for ruining your moment," he joked and I laughed, shaking my head again.

"No it's okay, I haven't seen you in years, did Brendon invite you?" I asked speedily, his and Ryan's relationship had and always will be something different.

"No, it was Will." He answered sadly, you could see the pain that it caused him to say. He really did feel something for Brendon, he always had done, Brendon had showed his feelings once or twice, but nothing had ever become of it, it was completely against Brendon's beliefs that he had grown up with, so of course it makes sense to just stick to them even though your feelings were saying to do the complete opposite. Complete logic. Urie logic.

I hugged Ryan again and he stole my hat, running away with it and over to William Beckett, who was talking to Spencer. Ryan had no problem with talking to the other band members, it was just Brendon. I sighed and turned back around to Pete who had now gone and wasn't anywhere to be seen. I blinked in surprise and walked out of the room and checked the bathroom, calling out his name as I walked in. He was at the sink, washing his hands, I smiled happily at him. 

"Hey," he smiled back and looked at me in the mirror, I looked at myself too and quickly looked away, changing my gaze to Pete again, he was a much more prettier site to look at over myself. I took a few steps towards him and he took a few steps back too backwards to the wall. "Patrick, this isn't...A...A good idea," he stammered and I moved close enough that I could smell his cologne. Very Pete.

"You're drunk," he commented and I shook my head.

"Only slightly," I snapped back quickly and brushed the back of my hand across his cheek, making him shiver and look away from my eyes.

"And slightly for you is a lot, you don't drink much Patrick..." He talked slower, trying to drag it out. Where had all of this seriousness gone? Where had the party gone?

"Stop talking..." I whispered and he eventually met my eyes and the moment he did so he cupped my face in his hands and pulled me desperately towards his lips, kissing me passionately. Oh...Fucknuggets.


	2. 2. Art Of Keeping Up Disappearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art Is The Weapon.

Chapter 2: Art Of Keeping Up Disappearances

Pete:

Why was Patrick acting this way? I had never thought that he felt this way, why would I? He had shown no signs whatsoever towards liking me or having any other feelings other than he loved me like a brother. Not in another way; not ever. 

I pulled away from him quickly, and he looked at me like I had just stolen away something he wanted. Wanted really badly, wait maybe that was true, maybe he did really want me and I just hadn't realized it until now. But did I even like him in that way? He was handsome, he was beautiful. I swallowed hard and held up a hand to him, he looked even more hurt by that and shook his head, opening the door and walking out. I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling a little dizzy from the alcohol and Patrick's reasonings.

His intentions had changed from yesterdays for sure. I followed after him and tried to run but was far too dizzy to even do that, I slowed down and walked into Andy. He snapped his fingers in front of my face and I groaned, easily annoyed. "Stop it," I murmured. Andy frowned and helped me sit down against the wall.

"What's wrong?" He asked calmly, I looked down to his feet that were holding his perched body up, intrigued by them. "Are you high?" He asked. My eyes flared open and I stood, pushing myself away from him and striding off to the door of Brendon's hotel room. The very man himself ran up behind me and placed a hand to my shoulder.

"Where're you going Petey?" He asked, I tried so hard to not let out a laugh but it failed and I smirked. "Wentzy...Don't leave...You know I love you, right?" I laughed again and hugged him tightly before leaving, I had to get out of here, the noise and the adrenaline was making my chest ache. I called a taxi cab and waited by the curb, searching through my pockets, wanting something to entertain me as I waited.

I observed the street at all the bypassers, I wouldn't have thought about them if I wasn't in this state and this state was bad, when I started to think about strangers more than my own life that was when you had to start worrying - and that was now.

When I took out my phone to take my mind of anything, it really didn't help. I had four texts from my latest girlfriend Emma. I put my head in my hands and the taxi cab pulled up and I jumped in, giving him the address of my favourite club in Chicago, hopefully a few of my buddies would be there. 

I text one of them and asked if they were there, thank God - they were. I beamed wide and stared absentmindely out the window, staring at drunk people who probably didn't know where they were, but neither did I. I knew the majority of Chicago, but not this area, why did Brendon have to choose one of the most surreal and lonely hotels in the whole of Chicago. Ugh.

I paid the driver and climbed out, practically running into the club, knowing full well that I would get pre-paid drinks waiting for me and I wouldn't have to pay. That was one of the few reasons why I loved being famous in this way, people loved me and would get me drunk - quickly, something that I needed right now. 

The show was tomorrow night, that was enough time to spend the night being drunk, recovering in the day and practicing before performing. No one would know any better. 

\------

And that was exacly what I did. God my head hurt so much. The ceiling and the floor were all merged into one and things started happening that shouldn't. That was when the hallucinations started. From what I could remember it was about nine in the morning and someone was giving me a lift back to the hotel that I was (apparently) staying at. Why was I staying at a hotel? I shouted all the way back to the hotel and they practically threw me into my bed, who even was this man?

My eyes shut from being up for almost two days and I fell asleep, at least this would give me a break from the hallucinations. Damn pills. Damn alcohol. Damn everything. Everyone. Dayum.

Patrick:

Breakfast was uninteresting. Pete still hadn't come back from last night, all I wanted was to know that he was okay, that he hadn't ended up in a gutter somewhere, especially after his past. It was shaky and he might just fall back to the way he was. 

Andy walked back up to our rooms with me and I waved at him before enetering mine and Pete's room, letting out a yelp when I saw Pete lying on the bed, at first I thought that he wasn't breathing but then I saw the rise and fall of his chest and relaxed a little. Thank the lord.

I went to his side and sighed, he reeked of alcohol, really badly. Worse than I had ever smelt on him in a long while. This was my fault, wasn't it? I'd sent him back this way.

His tie was gone and his waistcoat was covered in dirt, where the hell had he been? Even if I did ask him I'm sure that by the state of him he wouldn't have any idea too. His hair was hanging over his eyes, was he purposing trying to look like he used to? I frowned and went for a shower, when I came out he was still the same. I'd have to wake him up soon to get ready, we had to be at the venue early.

Would he hate me when he woke?

I shook his arm and he groaned, I poked his face and got the same response. Sighing, I started tickling him, he let out a yelp and squirmed around on the bed, falling onto the floor. I let him fall, maybe that would wake him up. THE MIGHTY FALL. Oh fuckidy-doo-das.

Pete crawled into the bathroom, dragging himself occassionally, and threw up violently into the toilet. Holy smokes, God, now I regret waking him up.

I peeked my head around the door and he was on the floor again, practically hugging it. I sighed and went to his side, flushing the toilet, trying not to think about the colour of his puke too much. I leaned him back against the bath and tilted his head up, his eyes were closed and he seemed completely out of it. I cupped his face and drew circles on his cheeks with my thumbs, his eyes opened slowly and I smiled at him easily.

"Come on, Pete..." My hands helped him up and into the shower, he kept his trousers on, but took his shirt off. I washed his hair for him and helped him back out the bathroom and onto the bed, holding up outfits until he stuck a hand out at one of them. I helped him get changed and he went back asleep.

I got ready myself and Joe knocked on the door, he had the most weirdest knocks, I let him in and he raised an eyebrow at Pete. "Don't even ask, he was drunk and hasn't said a word all afternoon." I explained, packing things away around the room.

"Ah, that explains the alcohol that I can smell," nodding my head, I shook Pete awake again, he groaned and pushed me away. Joe helped and eventually, we got him out and into a taxi, on our way to the venue where our instruments were waiting. He was a mess, and it was my fault.

This chapter turned the story into a much different direction and it's going to be based more on Pete's side of things - I also had Pax.Am days playing non-stop while I wrote this ahaha ~xo


	3. We Were Doomed From The Start

We Were Doomed From The Start  
Patrick:

Sound-check was awful. The worst we've ever done in a while. I strutted over to Pete who was falling asleep on an amp on stage, all he had to do was play a few notes, not even a whole song for flapjacks sake.

I shook him harshly, making him fall to the ground on top of his bass, he hugged it comfortingly and Joe came over, shaking his head at the site before us. "He can't play tonight," he spoke quietly. Our manager ran over and I handed Joe my favourite silver guitar and shook my head, throwing my hands up in the air and running backstage into the dressing room.

Staring at yourself in the mirror is such a weird experience; when you think about it. Everytime you move, your reflection moves too. And my reflection was not a pretty image - Pete had made me act like this. His actions were already reflecting on the band. What had we done before when he was like this? I blinked a few times, trying to remember it. I went to one of his bags and rummaged around it, not even feeling guilty. I found packets and packets of pills, a few were prescribed, but others were definitely not, they weren't in friendly packaging at all.

Andy opened the dressing room door and chuckled, "you're not thinking about ending up like him too, are you?" He asked with a smirk and came over and zipped up Pete's bag again, I had a quick glance at his journal, contemplating opening it but debating against it eventually and taking a seat and checking the time. "Brendon, Dall, Spence and Kenny just got here." Andy told me, looking down a little. He knew I wouldn't care; he knew I only cared about sorting out Pete.

All he wanted me to know from his words was that we were running out of time, it was almost like he was mouthing the words, "do something, please." Everyone expected so much of me ever since we got back together, maybe it was a mistake. 

"What if this isn't the way things are meant to go, Andy?" I sighed and put my head in my hands helplessly, letting out a whimper. I didn't want it to be this way, no way.

"Hey...Hey, Stumpy, we'll get through tonight okay, and then we don't have to tour for a little while. You're not thinking straight, don't let Pete get into your head." He told me sternly, shaking my shoulder gently and reassuringly, before he walked out and shut the door silently. 

My legs crossed, my arms too, my eyes closed and eventually everything else did too. My heart, my mind, my aching bones and veins that needed to be massaged better. All I wanted was the old Fall Out Boy back, was that too much to ask? All I wanted was my old family. My old, perfect little, quirky family who I loved ever since day one.

But when one went down, so did everyone else. 

Fall Out Boy we're going down, dying...Oh God, I need to stop thinking like this. Pete really was getting into my head. I took a deep breath and forced myself to get up and go back out there to care for Pete, no one else would.

However, when I got there Brendon was shoving Pete's head into what looked like, a freezing cold, huge bowl of water. Oh ****. Here we go again...We did this in the past, I was sure of it. Before a few shows we would strip him down to his boxers and cover him in water, sober him up and snap him out of it. Sometimes it didn't work but come on, it was one damn show, Pete. You're better than this.

Brendon pulled Pete out the water and Pete scrambled away on the floor, his lips hanging open as he stared helplessly at all of us, he fell onto his side and rubbed his face. Dallon threw him a towel, "if you don't play tonight I'll take your place, okay? Suck it up, man, it's one show." Dallon told him before shaking his head and going to look at the lights and effects with Spencer, they were always interested in that bullcrap. 

I found myself going to Pete's side and placing a hand on his freezing cold shoulder, the irony. He's giving me the cold shoulder. Ha! "Pete, come on, please, just look at yourself." I whispered carefully, he shook his head and let out a whimper before standing, pulling on his clothes and running out of the venue, I ran up some stairs and watched him from a height. 

Fans who were in the queue all got up and a few ran after him, dear God Pete, what're you doing? You used to do that when our fans knew you were gonna do it, but not anymore...You know you're gonna get attacked or something. And that he did. He got cornered and eventually fell to the ground and I heard sirens, oh shit. This is getting bad. I sould do something, right? He was my friend, but I did this...This was my fault. yes, yes my fault. I rubbed my forehead, a deep headache coming on at full-force. 

Pete scrambled to his feet when he saw the lights and he sped off in the distance, a few paramedics running after him but he eventually got away, he's a quick runner when he wants to be, stumbling a few times due to him sobering up. I took a seat by the window and Brendon ran up, "is he okay?" He asked the million-dollar question. I even laughed.

"What do you think?" I replied snarkily and he sighed, sitting down opposite me on the floor, letting out a squeal when he saw a spider, immediately standing back up again and running a hand through his newly cut hair.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, okay?" Brendon suggested and walked out, a terrified look in his eyes, clearly from the spider incident. I got up too and followed him, not really knowing what else to do. People would take care of him, right? Pete? He was a big boy. Even when he was drunk; he managed to make it back home this morning. 

* * * 

When Panic! came running off stage I knew that it was time to shine. The lights went off and then back on again for the crowd to be able to see. I turned to look up at Dallon on my left and Joe and Andy on my right. I was terrified. I'd only ever performed seven times without Pete, and every time was a disaster. But Dallon was a brilliant bassist, this shouldn't happen again...Right? Oh God, everything about tonight was doomed fromt the second that Pete turned up at the hotel. No, it was doomed from when we kissed. Definitely. ****.

-xo


	4. Even Broken Wings Can Fly

4\. Even Broken Wings Can Fly  
Influenced by Sanctuary - Paradise Fears  
Patrick:

Pete was falling hard. He was crashing back down to the way he used to be. I couldn't stand it; no way was I going to let him destroy himself. We shipped him back to his house, making sure his stuff was unpacked for him. We all returned to our homes, leaving him alone for the next few days, promising that we were going to look after him in the coming weeks. 

Pete could only go down from here.

"How did we fix him before?" Andy asked, walking up the steps to my house and into the kitchen. He grabbed a can of soda out the fridge and jumped up onto the counter. 

"I can't remember, he just...He got out of it himself, he somehow got a better outlook on life." I explained, looking down to my feet, kicking my shoes off, shortening my height even more. [Pete actually got better before because of Bronx, but he's not in this story yet]

"Well we've gotta figure out a way to make him have that same view." Andy urged onwards, I ran a hand through my hair, sighing.

"Do you think I don't know that or something?" I snapped and walked into the living room, throwing myself onto the sofa, taking out my phone and sending Brendon a message asking him if Panic! got home okay.

"Okay Mr. Snappy," he rolled his eyes and sat down next to me. That's the thing with Andy. Even if you snapped at him, he was always going to be there for you, because he snapped a lot too. He didn't care about the other bullshit that was going on. Only on what matters.

"I just want him back the way he was..." I murmured, shaking my head, shoving my phone away. My wallpaper was too much, it was an old picture of us back when we were in the studio recording From Under The Cork Tree.

"We'll get him back, we have to." My phone buzzed and I looked at it, eagerly waiting for Pete to message me, I raised an eyebrow when it was William Beckett. What did he want? I opened up the message and read it aloud so Andy was in on the deal.

"'Hey Trick, Pete's been messaging me all day asking if I wanted to go out drinking, I'm worried about him, message me back? x'" I sighed and quickly replied with.

"Bill, hey, thanks for letting me know. He's going through a rough patch right now, we're working on getting him out of it though, thanks for the concern x" Andy shook his head, itching his neck irritably. 

"I'm gonna head over there," I sighed and stood, going upstairs and changing my clothes into a shirt, jeans and a loose denim jacket. My clothes felt all 'road-trippy' and gross. I didn't need that all day, I picked up my fedora and sunglasses. 

"I'll stay here, okay?" Andy called out to me, making me chuckle a little as I slid on my boots. I then proceeded to make my way to Pete's house, almost getting hit by three cars in the process, jeez, people were in a hurry today.

Can't a little guy in a fedora cross a road in peace?


	5. Young & Rich; Desinger Drugs & Designer Friends

Influenced by Cobra Starship  
Chapter 5: Young & Rich; Desinger Drugs & Designer Friends

Pete:

Everything was hazy. How else was I meant to view things? How I even formed a sentence right now was insane. It all seems too faded out and it was almost as if I wasn't on Earth's terrain. Maybe I wasn't?

Maybe in a way my body was; but the drugs were transforming my soul and mind into a separate part of the universe so that I was completely diverse and cut-off and completely secluded from my body. That was quite a terrifying thought.

Tonight I was going to lose control completely. Fall Out Boy thought I'd hit rock bottom, but they hadn't seen me in action; real action. Gabe Saporta said he'd meet me - I hadn't seen him in nearly a year. He had news that he was engaged to a woman named Erin; so he wanted to celebrate anyway. 

Excellent.

* * * 

He showed up around three hours after I rung him inviting him out to one of the best clubs that we knew of; The Designer Friend. There was always on-point music playing and when Gabe got there, he went straight to the music centre and spoke to the Dj; using his smooth-talking voice. The music got lounder once he approached me and I instantnly recognized the song. 

"You joker," I laughed and he hugged me tightly. "I missed you man!" I almost shouted at him to be heard over the music, he grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the bar, getting a plate of shots before downing five in a competition with me; myself obviously winning. Duh. 

He urged me over to the dancefloor and we sang and danced along to the song that he'd played - Good Girls Go Bad; by his own band, Cobra Starship. It was a great song, like in all honesty I preferred it so some of the songs that I'd wrote myself, was that modesty - or the truth?

Soon enough, the entire dancefloor was filled; damn Gabe knew how to start a party. They either recognized him, or me and they came over and danced closely to us. It'd been a while since I'd had this much fun. 

Gabe and I screamed the lyrics at each other at the top of our lungs, "I was hanging in the corner with my five best friends!" Were the words. The next song was "Living In The Sky With Diamonds" by Cobra again - did he give him a playlist or something? I laughed and kissed Gabe's drink, getting handed drinks by a random girl and downing them at the same time with Gabe. These songs were bringing back so many memories - great memories. Fantastic memories. Perfect memories.

Memories where I couldn't remember which day it was, what hour it was, what planet it was. Gabe and I used to go out all the time, and now my buddy was going to get married! MARRIED. M-A-R-R-I-E-D! Gabe...Married. Damn. 

We continued to dance for at least three more hours, drinking and kissing random people...After that, we went and sat down in the corner of the club, strobe lights reminding me of being on stage, hearing thousands of kids singing the lyrics back to me that Patrick sung ever-so-beautifully. Was that because they wished for a future that wasn't the one existing right before them?

I'll leave the past behind me because now - this is what mattered. Gabe belonged to my life; I needed him as a pick-me-up. Despite that whatever we did was drink together, it gave me such good memories, and so many happy times struck into my head whenever I thought of what we'd done, and where we've come. It's true what Gabe said once. You can be famous and still be a hot mess. 

Gabe tapped his hands along the table towards me, his white teeth bleaming from the strobe lights, he slid back on his sunglasses from dancing and shrugged off his leather jacket, pushing his hair back. He was so much more practiced than me. He could where anything and it'd look good; then there was me. Hoodies and Jeans. There was Gabe; tight pants and tight jacket. He had so much S.A.S.S.

That Was It.

Cobra Starship was about Sass.

Gabe was about Sass.

The Sass.

I turned to him and ruffled his hair back into the state it was before, he laughed and slicked it back again so the emaculate quiff went back to the way it was.

So casual yet professional.

Gabe's face started to blur and his skin looked like it was falling off like candlewax, I blinked a few times, terrified by the image. Gabe cupped my face to make sure I was okay, I shook my head and downed another drink; the image returning to normal. Ugh. This was my antidote.

The antidote to my torment, to my torture.

* * * 

It's like what they say, To feel pain; you have to feel joy. To feel joy; you have to feel pain. Right now I was feeling both. The room I was in was dark, and the air was thin and smoky. I blinked a few times and threw my legs over the side of the bed, well; I was naked for a start. Where were my clothes...was I wearing clothes? I found a pair of jeans on the floor and my hoodie, pulling it all on and looking around the trashed room. Damn.

I ran a hand through my hair and tried to look for my phone, finding it on the floor with the screen cracked, I tried to turn it on and fuq. It was dead. No time for me this morning. I went over to the window and threw it open, I ignored the pain in my stomach that was telling me to throw up as soon as the air hit my throat. I could ignore it for now. I took out a pot of pills from my pocket and swallowed a few, hoping that would make me forget about it.

The room had -smoke- in it, steam, kind of like cigarette smoke. I felt over the table on the left of the bed, finding a packet of cigarettes and loose ones, the ashes scattered too, there was white powder there too and I even laughed out loud. Well, I hadn't supplied it. That I could remember. What even happened last night? The legendary question. Obviously the probability happened - the main aim that I had every night.

Wake up and not remembering the night before. I think I achieved that pretty much. All I could remember was Gabe's face and his sunglasses, his jacket...I fished around in my pocket and found his sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. I glanced around the room before going to the door and opening it. The sunlight was sickening, deafening and soul-crushing. All at once my head screamed at me to burn right there and then. I groaned in pain and slid on the sunglasses, trudging down the street in hope that I knew where the bloody hell I was.

I glanced at a road sign, "Arthur's Court" Well. I sighed and found a few twenties in my pocket, holding my arm out for a taxi and asking him to drive to my house, laying down in the backseat away from the sunlight, hugging in on myself. Ugh this was suckish.

Patrick:

The first trip to Pete's house was uneventful, no answer. So I stopped by the morning after and sighed when I saw Pete laying on his doorstep, the door open and him laying across the threshold. I dragged him inside before shutting the door, pulling him over to the bathroom and pulling the sunglasses off him, tapping his back to try and wake him up. He mumbled something under his breath before throwing up violently into the toilet.

Pete, why was I always cleaning up your mess? You're meant to be a hot mess, not a handful mess.

A/n: This chapter was influenced by pretty much all of Cobra Starship's songs, check them out because they're just so perfect oh my life c: thank you for all the kind words on this story, it really means a lot 

Ryro -xo


	6. Forever Hold Your Peace In Pieces

This was influenced heavily by Almost Here [The Album] - The Academy Is

6\. Forever Hold Your Peace In Pieces

Patrick:

This was nothing more than dents on the wardrobe. It’s just a meaningless tiny bump in the road, right? 

That was how I was meant to be observing this situation right? Everything was meant to sort itself out eventually?

Questions that I couldn’t answer soared through my head as I watched him sleep.

As I watched him recover momentarily from his state of self-destruction; it all seemed impossible.

If I closed my eyes, everything would somehow re-write itself and it would all complete on its own. All without my help, without my having to worry; and without me having to even raise a finger to someone who seems unfixable.

Sleep seemed stupid at a moment as precious as this. I invited Andy over to get me through it, I would lose it completely when he woke. God knows where he’d been, I reached into his pocket and took out his pills he was meant to take. At least he hadn’t lost them.

One bottle for…I checked the label and went through my memory, racking my brain for something that he’d ever mentioned about pills. Ah, anger management. I went into his bathroom and found his Prozac, sighing and putting them both by his bed, opening a cabinet by his bed where he kept all his paperwork, going through it. This was breaking the privacy rules that we’d set up pretty much ever since we met, but come on, be serious; this was hardly something to be wary about.

His insides were destroyed! All his young blood was decaying! Who knows what else was happening to his body?!

At last, I found his doctor’s notes and pulled out the number, going downstairs to ring him up, being put through the receptionist and finally getting to speak with him. Apparently he’d missed his last nine therapy sessions, Pete went to therapy? I ran a hand through my hair and asked him for more information. Apparently – it was ‘classified’. I kept battling my side of it, telling him how bad he’d gotten; and how much I was willing to pay for Pete to get better.

It was ridiculous how you had to literally pay to make someone healthier if you got to them too late.

He insisted that I try and calm Pete down and get him to go down to the doctor himself, to see Dr. Vanhelg apparently. I sighed and hung up, too angry to even continue with the conversation. Andy came downstairs and I explained the situation.

“Maybe he just needs time to think,” Andy suggested, making me shake my head, scoffing. Hardly.

“Time?” I almost shouted, taking a quick breath to calm down. “If we give him any more time he would have built himself a grave and coated the grave with dirt,” I nearly hissed and looked down. Feeling guilty for taking it out on him, not having time to apologize, hearing throwing up sounds from upstairs, ah fuck-noodles.

I ran upstairs with the help of Andy when I almost fell, we both carried Pete to the bathroom and helped him to throw up the rest of it, Andy took care of the sick on the carpet in the bedroom, I even smirked a few times when I heard him making gagging noises.

“Pete, come on,” I whispered and helped him back into the bedroom, pulling off his shirt and throwing it into the washing basket. Unzipping his jeans and blush immediately filled my cheeks, how could I be so surprised to see that lurking in his crotch? I chuckled and Andy re-entered the room, finishing gagging in the bathroom and quickly laughed.

“You can sort that out,” Andy smirked and winked before leaving me alone with Pete and the other surprise friend who decided to join in on the party. Pete fell back asleep and I sighed in relief, kind of thankful. I tugged down his jeans and boxers, running him a bath, getting Andy to help me to carry him in there. Pete woke up when we rested his head back on the ceramic tiles.

“Ah!” He squealed and I rolled my eyes and blew on the bubbles from the bubbly-bath-liquid. Pete rubbed his eyes. “I’ve never been more terrified,” he chuckled, realising he was naked in front of one of his best friends.

Andy was in the kitchen making some kind of food for us all, having to go out and get groceries because obviously; Pete only owned full-sugary drinks and ready-meals that were out of date by months. Pete patted down his body and made sure everything was there, his eyes going wide when he felt his ‘friend’ that he probably knew very well by now, say hello. I rolled my eyes a little and he gave me a look.

“Sorry about my er…” He sighed and rubbed his eyebrows.

“Companion?” I inserted and smirked wide, he chuckled and I helped to wash his hair, making sure to get rid of the smell of alcohol that had somehow got beneath his skin pretty much.

We’re far from the finishing line, but I really needed him back.

A few hours went by and I managed to get him to eat something, take his medication and agree to go see the doctor first thing tomorrow. That didn’t mean he would. It just meant he was doing it to try and get rid of me. Andy left later on that night and I locked up and went upstairs to tuck him into bed, switching off the main light and making sure he was comfortable, brushing a hand over his cheek. He really was beautiful though.

If you looked past the brokenness of his exterior you would realize that his time was almost here. That he would be okay; that we both would be. Pete brushed his fingertips down my wrist and gave me that same look that he did weeks ago, the look that said “you’re mine now,” I found myself blushing, thanking the lighting yet again and I leaned forwards and wasn’t sure what came over me before I pressed my lips to his earnest lips.

To no surprise, he kissed me back lovingly and pulled me onto the bed, taking off my jacket for me and sitting up, making sure I was fully on the bed before pulling me under the covers. Pete kissed over my cheek and face, kissing me wherever he could, wherever was visible. Well, wherever I let him. When he tried to take my shirt off I shook his head quickly, running a hand up his chest, admiring it.

It wasn’t anything special compared to his beautifully carved chest; there was no point in scarring him. Pete snuggled into my chest and I wrapped an arm around him tightly, just so thankful that he was okay and here was here. So much time had passed, so much had changed.

No sleep and no excuses could bring me to tell him how much he meant to me.

Sleep overwrote everything. I took back what I said before.

Sleep healed all wounds. Sleep was an escape. We were almost there.

This wasn’t a moment that we were going to forget anytime soon.

\- xo


	7. Smile For The Paparazzi

Chapter 7: Smile For The Paparazzi

Pete: 

Guilt. It was an emotion that constantly flowed in my veins. I never liked it, it never liked me. Momentarily though, it seemed as though it was vanishing, but returning when it knew I was weak, whenever it knew I was slipping back into old patterns; old habits. Sickness was something I never knew existed in my body, it crushed every aspect of me, spirit included; the way that I would think would change, all because I was a stupid mental head-case.

All good things must end though.

I searched through my room and found my cell in Patrick’s suitcase that he’d brought over. I took it out and went through the hundreds of missed calls and messages. Only replying to a few, letting people know I was okay. Deleting the missed calls and putting it on charge. When I glanced back at Patrick all I felt was more subdued pain that I thought I’d eradicated.

But no, there it was, waggling about in front of me. Tempting, and it was something I was used to, just like all things recently.

Longer than most, have I spent dwelling on the past. My decisions that I made yesterday completely made who I am today, don’t bullshit it, or sugar coat it – it’s going to persevere into your mind until you believe in the fact that you’re just a loser who’s not going to get anywhere with your life. The city is a place for loss and tragedy, not for hopes and dreams. The type that I’m supposed to be has changed, I’m meant to be documenting my life in lyrics, inspiring hundreds around me, not dwelling on my own pain constantly.

See, self-awareness is a key symptom of insecurity. Ha.

I went over to my drug list and found the pot of my anxiety pills, shaking my head and wrapping them in a paper towel before flushing them down the toilet. What was the point? They never made anything better? I glanced at my Prozac that barely had any left, and dismissed it. Patrick would get suspicious if I didn’t take them. They were the pills that made me have severe mood swings – for the better and worse. Marriage was a strange concept; as was my mind. They had a lot in common, maybe they could be friends.

Patrick stirred in his sleep and that was when I knew I had to get out. I squeaked open the bedroom door and vaguely heard the TV on downstairs, Joe was here wasn’t here, right, or was it Andy.

My feet padded down the stairs and I noticed that Andy was asleep on the couch. Now was my escape.

They said something about suicide watch but that was all bullshit. I slipped out the front door and as soon as I heard the click of the door I realised I had left my keys and my phone inside. Shit. Inevitably, I just continued and walked to Gabe’s house. It was only a few blocks down and he would help me outta this, right? 

Whilst I rang the bell, it just continued to ring in my ears – it felt like an intruder was inside my brain. Sensitivity washed over me and it was then that I realised I needed to take my anxiety pills. Well; I can’t, so I strived onward. I rang the bell again, then the knocker. Gabe pulled open the door and me inside before he slammed the door and I whimpered.

“It is 9am, what do ya want?” He asked, shaking his head in disapproval at my attitude. “Patrick said I’m not allowed to take you out again, not after what happened before.”

“What happened before?” I asked teasingly, smirking at him.

“Are you already drunk?” He asked, almost hissing the words at me. Sighing, I shook my head, how could he think that? I was still standing, wasn’t I?

“No, no I’m not. I just wanted to see you,” I answered quietly and walked into his living room, laying down on the couch.

“No alcohol,” he warned and I held up my hands in retreat.

“No alcohol,” I repeated in the same tone that he used. He was acting as if I was a kid, what had gotten into him?

“Do you realise how worried I was!?” was the next thing he asked, no, shouted at me, he was almost screaming it. My heart skipped a few beats and I sat up, running a hand through my hair.

“N-no,” I answered honestly, having absolutely no filter recently to my words. What was the need? Everyone knew I was an asshole; there was no need to hide it now. I knew I didn’t have long before Patrick would be ringing up everyone I knew to see where I was. I would come up with some excuse; I’m not a kid anymore like Gabe seemed to think; he was still a kid himself for Christ’s sake.

“Well, I was you asshole!” He shouted again and stood, “how could you think I didn’t care about you?” I shook his head in response, how was I supposed to know what he was feeling? I was being ignorant now. I needed to stop it. Stop it you’re being an asshole like he just said.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I muttered and rubbed over my face, my eyes stinging like I’d been swimming with my eyes open. Gabe sighed and took a seat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m just worried about you, we all are,” he mumbled and I nodded slowly, curling into him. Soon enough, he made me play a few video games and everything about it was making me freak out internally, the slight flash of violence was making my blood boil with frustration; not taking my pills was making me think strangely too.

 

Gabe’s phone went off and he went into the kitchen to answer it; so I bailed, dashing out the back door, not leaving any evidence behind. Am I nasty?


End file.
